Blood Among Ash
by solemnmadness
Summary: Twenty years have passed since the defeat of Dagoth Ur, and the Nerevarine, a Khajiit named Clauviir, braces himself for the coming chaos which will determine the official lineage of Azura's Morrowind.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Clauviir sat within Ebonheart's council room, his orange fur sticking to the velvet fabric of his specially-made throne. His eyes drifted towards slumber, and he attempted to give the illusion of attentiveness by propping his head up with his fist. He tried not to sleep, but his mind continued to drift towards the keep's crossed windows, illuminating the room in a deep yellow hue. What choice had he but to sleep through yet another violent, slander-filled meeting between the Dunmer Great Houses? Telvanni accusing Redoran kinsmen of murder, Redoran attacking their councilors for not keeping their wizards in order, Hlaalu claiming Telvanni illegally took control of so-and-so land… it was a redundant process. Clauviir, at one point, thought the defeat of Dagoth Ur would resolve their petty differences, allowing them to come together and make themselves something better. 'What brings men to be so indifferent?' He thought, his chin sagging even further into his upright fist, 'All this effort, for 20 damn years, and not a single thing has changed…'

His eyes sealed tightly after that thought. He gave a sigh, subtle and unnoticeable he thought, and yet he felt the presence of someone watching him. He tried to open his eyes, but his efforts were for naught. Quiet whispers came echoing in his mind, which sounded like that of an old woman. He attempted to decipher the sounds as they grew louder. His eyes, which were only in sight of the black of his eyelids, came upon a blinding aurora of colors. His body then seemed to be floating in mid air within the rainbow clouds, and yet as he turned his head, he did not see his body. As the surroundings manifested, the whispers finally became coherent.

'You give yourself no credit, Nerevar,' the familiar voice echoed, 'almost all Imperial influence has left Vvardenfell with your victory, and my people's livelihood has never been better. You cannot just end their irrational pride with a single swoop, but you may with patience and decisive action.'

'Azura… how long has it been since you communicated with me in this way?' Clauviir said jokingly, 'I must say that I've missed your input.'

'Whatever bliss you feel is a natural reaction to my presence, of course. Let me remind you that you cannot disallow your logic within my mind; not even for an instant.'

'Yes yes, I understand,' Clauviir sighed, shaking his head, or whatever it was in his current state,' the fact that we are back here makes me feel something importance is about to happen, something which I should pay extra attention to.'

A body of a Dunmer woman drifted into his sight. She wore a thin white dress, and her body seemed to only be a silhouette of human, further emphasized by her piercing ruby eyes. She smiled calmly, and brought her hands out to the sides of his eyes, as though caressing a baby's head.

'It is not my place to tell you what can and will happen in the next few days,' Azura said, 'There were many things you should have done in the last 20 years, although you have also done many good things as well. All small things are important to the future, so long as they form together en masse to create a greater effect. What I will tell you is that particular effect is coming soon, and you must be prepared to act accordingly. Do not try to stop it, as you have for so long.'

'Stop what, exactly?' Clauviir attempted to his body around, but the colors around him blinded him from a sense of distance. He frowned, turning his head back to Azura, 'You equivocate on every event. Can't you just end this? Wouldn't it be for the better?'

'Absolutely not,' Azura said, closing out her ruby eyes and shaking her head, 'One needs a sense of confusion so they are compelled towards a mystery. If I had told you on that prison boat that you were Nerevar reborn, would your first reaction to be to work yourself into Morrowind, to become Telvanni, to join the Imperial guilds, the legion, or the temple? No, you probably would have frightened out of your mind and hid, or you would have ran into the Ashlands without any fighting experience and gotten yourself killed. This is the same situation; understand that, and perhaps all will go well.'

'Then I will allow events to go as they should,' Clauviir said, 'However, I will not wait patiently. If I affect anything, it will only be an accidental interference.'

'I know exactly what you want to do,' Azura said softly, 'You wish to see how Vivec fairs. Though I know nothing I can say will stop you from caring, I hope you realize he cannot be saved. His body has been destroyed by Lorkhan's heart, and so his death has been sealed. Although I am surprised he has lasted even this long…'

'It is through my care, Azura,' Clauviir said briskly, 'He is deserving of a peaceful end, at least. You have to understand that.'

'I could, but I choose not to,' said Azura, 'I am not a mortal, even if I think in a similar way. He played god wrongly, and I have no empathy for such an action. He happened to be the only mortal who used such power for some good. If he had not, well… let's say that Morrowind would have been a smoldering ruin, either from the non-actions of a hermit like Sotha Sil, or a power hungry villain like Almalexia.'

'You are right, logically,' Clauviir said haughtily, 'but since that is not the case, I will give him my full support. I don't get the impression that my interactions with him have been a detriment to this future event, either way.'

'It has, perhaps, been the leading cause to its quickening,' Azura said, 'or it will be…'

'What are you whispering about?' Clauviir called.

Azura's eyes widened, as though hit with sudden insanity. She looked towards Clauviir with her mouth gapping, and screamed out to him:

_Bring forth the three bloods of the land_

_Spill them upon each other with a single swipe_

_They will sear the land which they stand upon_

_With a hidden dagger_

_With an honorable blade_

_With mystical fire_

_They will send with them the foreign swine_

_They will call upon a demonic legion_

_They will cry upon the shoulders of their kin for aid_

_Upon engagement, the law of the land is no more_

_Beasts will be mounted_

_Steel will be planted_

_Ash will ignite anew_

_All hope falls in the aftermath of destruction_

She gasped loudly, her eyes closed and body slumping backwards, as though trapped in a sleep-like state.

'The time has come,' Azura pointed towards him, the tip of her finger shining brightly, 'Go, my child. Destiny will follow, however good or ill.'

Her finger tip flared, blinding his eyes. He growled at the burning brightness, and his body fell into the bottom of the twilight miasma.

He reopened his eyes to find himself on the cold stone floor of Ebonheart's keep. He looked up quickly to see he had fallen out of his chair, and to see the entire council looking down at him in confusion and humor. A dark blue hand came down to him, open-palmed. Clauviir followed the source to Master Aryon, the councilor who adopted him, and the one who took Clauviir's leadership position after the battle at Red Mountain.

"I'm glad to see you active, at least," Aryon whispered, smiling, "I would never be so harsh as to ask for input during these terrible meetings, but anything done by you breaks this mundane, unentertaining feeling they've molded. Here, push up…"

Clauviir had underestimated the weight of his armor, feeling the weight of the Daedric upon his spine as he pushed up. He looked towards the angry eyes which made up the council hall, calling to them in a tone of embarrassment, "Please, continue with whatever you were saying."

"It matters little," Athyn Sarethi said with a tinge of annoyance. He had become the new head of House Redoran after the death of Bolvyn Venim. Although he seemed relieved to take up this position, he also seemed to disdain the manner of his death. It was a well known fact that, even though Venim had kidnapped Athyn's son for political reasons and the fact that he hated outlanders, attempting to prohibit them from getting higher positions in his house, that Athyn still respected Venim's past leadership. "This meeting is finished. We will look over the rightful ownership of the Shishi land deed in the next meeting. Until then, Azura watch over you."

Clauviir grinned, looking at the ground as the councilors left the keep in an asocial order. He looked at the two sheaths around his belt, which held the blades Hopesfire and Trueflame. He had learned to wield the two during his training in Akavir. Holding two blades at once during combat seemed so foreign that the sight of them unsheathed frightened even his closest friends. They represented his role as the Nerevarine, perhaps even his superiority over the people of Morrowind. Though that thought process is unusually conceded, this pride gave him the strength needed to lead the unruly Dunmer people.

He looked back up to see that most of the councilors were out, even Aryon. A few stragglers stayed back to talk to each other, and of course, the duke of Vvardenfell, Vedam Dren, stayed in his chair patiently. Clauviir came up to him with a smile.

"I swear Vedam," Clauviir said, "Will there ever be some interesting topic or event brought up in these things? Since the beginning, all I've ever heard from these people is 'rogue Telvanni' or 'unchartered mines'."

"Well, I've gotten used to that sort of talk," Dren said, pushing himself off his chair, "I guess I'm just tolerant of my people; though, it's not like they've earned that right. We all know you don't listen here, and we've come to appreciate your actions outside. Surely there's no one that could argue against all the smuggling operations you've destroyed single handedly."

"To be honest, I just go out there when I'm bored of the cities," Clauviir laughed, avoiding eye contact. He knows what he does is helpful, but the fact that he hasn't the effort to achieve perfect disposition with the heads of the country, even after 20 years, made him feel like a reprehensible person. "I was going to ask you, actually, if there were any more rogue bases set up. You seem to get that information faster than the Great Houses they work for."

"Oh, well I haven't gotten any new information on that," Dren said. He patted Clauviir's shoulders and grinned, "Honestly, with your reputation, any rogue of bandit thinks before setting up smuggling operations, even around the Ashlands!"

"Hmm…" Clauviir looked down and Dren's dust covered ebony boots, which still seemed to shine a dull purple even through the unkempt look.

"I have heard something that maybe of important to you," Dren said as he let go and walked towards the stairway to his throne room, "Rumor has it that Vivec plans on making a speech to his people today-"

Clauviir's face shot up. He clenched his fists and quickly came towards Vedam. "He's in no condition to do such a thing. That's ridiculous… the rumor probably has no basis."

"It probably doesn't," Vedam said, turning to Clauviir. He stared at him as though he was equally frightened, attempting to hide it yet failing to, "You're the only one who can truly find out, either way."

"Yes, I know…" Clauviir swiftly turned and started to run towards the keep's exit, "Thank you for telling me. And keep me informed of anything else, silly rumors and otherwise!"

"Sometimes, one has to be a gossip monger in order to understand one's people," Dren said, subtly waving, "Azura watch over you!"

Vedam turned back to the staircase. He stood there with his left hand pressed on the opening. 'What could Vivec possibly say to the people at this point?' He thought, 'The Dunmer either forgot about his presence… or hate him to no end…'

He proceeded beyond the stone arch, exhausted by such a thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Ebonheart, though brings the thought of past Imperial control, was thought of as a strategic defensive position and a rational meeting place, away from most Great House-controlled property. The thought of tearing down Ebonheart and the rest of the Imperial forts was determined to be wasted effort; it wasn't as though they weren't well designed, most Dunmer believed. So they stayed put, used now in a similar way to the old Dunmer strongholds were once used for: both as refuge for citizens during crisis, or just as mustering halls for professional armies and militia. As Clauviir walked through the dusty stone walls and crumbling stairwells, he remembers when such Imperial colonies teemed with activity from trading and guild work. Though the East Empire Company still occupied the docks, and the Imperial Cult still preached in the back of the keep, barely half of the towers and buildings here were being used. Places like the Argonian and Skyrim missionary laid empty: the former due to the finding of Twin Lamp activity, and the latter due to the collective hatred the Dunmer have for the Nordic people. Although Clauviir felt that a lack of interstate communication was counterintuitive to the welfare of Morrowind, the Dunmer's beliefs were well-founded; being that they've been enemies with both for millennia, even enslaving one of them.

Clauviir crossed the final bridge of Ebonheart, reaching the damp grassy hills of the Ascadian isles. The grasslands were spotted with a vivid array of colored flowers, and the pale mushroom trees shot up to the sky in natural triumph. Towards the western horizon sat the great city of Vivec; it contained beige temple-like cantons, which stood still upon the unruly sea waters, splashing massive waves upon its well carved walls, only to be pushed back. He saw a few Dunmer citizens walking across the temple canton, their red eyes emboldening themselves within the vivid twilight background. 'Are they just walking, or have they come to see Vivec walk out?' Clauviir thought anxiously. From that thought, he started to run once again to the closest bridge: the Hlaalu canton.

As he ran across the wet dirt path, a thought came upon Clauviir's mind: how did it come to this? His career before being the Nerevarine took him everywhere across the island, towards constant success and strength, within his mind and body. Through all the fights and all the diplomacy, he became what no one could: Patriarch of The Temple, Oracle of the Imperial Cult, headmaster of each Imperial guild… any large, organized group within Vvardenfell one can think of, he made himself the head of it. It was only after each of those successful ventures that he took his Blades duties seriously; which then led to fulfilling the Nerevarine prophecies in order to save the Dunmer people from the threat of Dagoth Ur. Yes, his life here was far from unfulfilling, at least from the start.

His campaign into Akavir proved to be the opposite of one's psychology after success; he was afraid of being a leader to a disorganized community, terrified of what was expected of him, from the people, Daedric, and Aedric gods. He trained himself through combat with the most horrid of beasts, through the serpent people's warlike culture. He learned what it feels to truly be close to death, instead of having his hand held by the gods and the fate they gave him. Five years of self-discipline gave him the resolve to come back and lead the Dunmer.

He followed the Ashlander's prophecy as closely as he could: bringing down the false gods, forcing the foreigners off the Dunmer's land, uniting the Great Houses towards a single cause… he failed in all of these, and only did enough to satisfy the Erabenimsun Ashlanders. Two gods had fallen, but he could not bring it in himself to destroy Vivec. Immigration was no longer allowed in Morrowind, though outlanders before the law came in were allowed to stay, as well as the concept of the Imperial cults and guilds; their style of organization was desired, so long as they held no tidings to the Imperial mainland. The Great Houses were as organized as they could be, but that is barely anything. Their transgression towards each other had not changed in the past 20 years; it has, perhaps, grown even worse. More and more of Morrowind, especially Vvardenfell, was settled when the word of Dagoth Ur's demise came. A massive population boom followed, and small settlements, something which the Dunmer people had never really tried out, were appearing in every region, even in the Ashlands and Red Mountain.

As a result of growth within Vvardenfell, the three main Dunmer houses grew exceptionally large. Though House Indoril was quite large on Tamriel, it had officially merged with the temple as a result of their sullen reputation created by the death of Almalexia. The temple, by that time, officially converted to Good Daedra worship, with the help of the ones formerly named 'Dissident Priests'. Due to the Temple's past reputation with helping the poor and educating the Dunmer people, few remained disdainful towards their past alliance with The Tribunal. House Dres, on the other hand, fell apart due to constant land wars with the Hlaalu and Redoran. They had not the ability to fight back either way, due to their dire weakening from the long past war with the Empire. In the end, House Redoran grew the most from land and influence, due to their strong bond with Temple and their honorable warrior reputation. The Hlaalu gained a lot of land as well, but their growth seemed supernatural, which even Clauviir had yet to find the source. Their wealth and the number of members they have do not coincide with the amount of land they own. The Telvanni seem to have grown more in knowledge than in size; being that Clauviir was their leader for a good year, communication between ambitious wizards dramatically increased, and magickal experimentation with it. The last time Clauviir checked on the mages working under Aryon, they were working on mass producing Dwemer defense robots with machines ran through energy stored in soul gems. It greatly astonished him that the people at the Mages Guild lacked such higher thinking.

With the Mages Guild, and all Imperial guilds, losing their Empire connections, so too did the puppet king Hlaalu Helseth lose his power. The emptiness in Mournhold was strange; losing both rival leaders around the same time was something that no one on the mainland expected, and as a result, the people living there migrated to different areas in Morrowind. It was rumored that Mournhold had become completely infested with beasts and necromancers. It was also rumored that Helseth sat at a bar in Skingrad and drank himself to death, although no one knows where his body was buried, or if.

From all of these events came this; a disorganized, squalor-filled Morrowind that grew too fast. The people's minds are chafed and scarred from the progression, and from such aggravation comes conflict. Clauviir did not need Azura to tell him of a coming event, as he had been preparing for the infection since the beginning. In what form he knew not, but he knew it was going to come soon. Such large steps towards a better long-run future will always create problems in the short-run, it seemed to him.

That was why he needed to hold off any action done by Vivec. He found himself running through High Fane, under the massive corridor which brought a shadow to the motionless crowd. He waded through them forcefully, which the people were annoyed for only a few seconds, calmed that the shoving man was their beloved Nerevarine. As he came to the end of tunnel, he looked up towards Vivec's palace. He sighed in relief, for Vivec was not anywhere in sight. 'Perhaps it was a rumor,' he thought, 'or maybe he's just holding himself off… it has been some time since he spoke… if he dies now, I swear to the gods…'

He came to the bottom of the large stairway, its stone steps slightly dampened by the water which shot out from canals to the side. On the stair way stood two Ordinators; there were many all along the platform, but these men were only there to block the entrance. Upon seeing Clauviir, they nodded to him and walked to their respective sides, giving space for Clauviir to walk through. The sun perfectly sat upon the top of the palace, slightly blinding Clauviir's eyes as he carefully walked up the path to Vivec.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Clauviir pressed his hands on the palace's small door at the top of the stairway, his palm on the door's lock. The rusting metal glowed a faint golden light, and within a few seconds the door opened slowly. He walked into the door, encountering an unfamiliar darkness.

"Are you there, Vivec?" Clauviir called meekly, "Why on earth would you blow out all the candles in here?"

"Ah… you've come." Vivec said. He was leaning on one of the pillars which protruded from his meditation triangle. His body, illuminated by the torches which stood on each of the three pillars, looked feeble and unnourished. His skin, instead of a deep charcoal blue, now was splotched with a gray tint. His eyes were dilated and slightly closed. "I felt all that fire was making me dizzy, though it didn't help much with my headache… have you ever gotten one of those, the ones which never seem to go away, that get worse and worse each hour…?" His head leaned to the side, his eyes closed and saliva slightly dripping out of his mouth. His ribs etched into his body with each elongated breath he took.

"You've gotten so much worse since the last time I saw you…" Clauviir came to Vivec's side, placing his body back in its original position, "Are the rumors true? Were you actually going to go out there and speak to them all?"

"Yes…" Vivec turned his head slowly towards Clauviir, smiling weakly, "I felt… that I needed to apologize to them… before I finally went and… and…" He suddenly grabbed Clauviir's shoulder, huffing profusely.

"You're in absolutely no condition to do anything right now, you fool!" Clauviir looked around the room. He found a redware bowl holding grinded ash salts. He crawled towards it quickly and grabbed it, bringing it back to Vivec. Licking his index finger, he took a pinch of the dust and started to draw a rune on Vivec's right shoulder. "Here, just wait a moment. I need to make sure your soul isn't attempting to sever itself from your body…"

"Nerevar…" Vivec whispered, clutching the back of Clauviir's neck, "Nerevar, Nerevar… have I ever told you I was sorry? We were such fools, such ambitious fools…"

"Don't speak, you'll just waste your energy," Clauviir said, anxiously drawing symbols on Vivec's upper body, "The people know you mean well, trust me. If I do, they must… don't worry yourself over nothing."

"...They have no right to forgive me," Vivec said, "Neither one of us were deserving of any kindness, no matter what we did in an attempt to better the people's lives… we took advantage of our powers, made us better through barbaric means, through unearned strength and spirit…"

Vivec's body went lax, his head turned away from Clauviir, whom was continuing to work. Vivec closed his eyes and took a deep breath, grinning.

"I remember when Dagoth Ur stood behind the heart, screaming at us to stay away, that it was his duty to protect it and that we had no right to use its power… and after breaking his body, his spirit, we took that power and called him the devil and the enemy. No, he was as much of a hypocrite as us in the end, yet… was because of us that he became a literal fiend?"

"Of course not," Clauviir said with a sigh, "he had those intentions the entire time. He was tempted by that power as much as you, probably more than all of you combined. You can't blame yourself for that…"

"But we killed you, Nerevar… what kind of man, or elf, or even beastfolk would destroy their protector?"

"That is the long past, and for that one life many lives were saved, emboldened. Nerevar couldn't have defended against the Empire, Nerevar couldn't use superhuman abilities to bring fear and respect to so many people, Nerevar couldn't organize the Dunmer forever…"

"Perhaps you are right… Clauviir," Vivec said, turning back to him.

'Was this the first time he ever said my real name?' Clauviir thought as he looked at Vivec, confused, 'I don't even know where he could have found out. Has he always known it? I'm sure I never told him…'

"I know you are not the same person as Nerevar," Vivec said softly, "You both have different ambitions, different strengths and weaknesses, vices and virtues… even if the prophecy or the Ashlanders won't admit it. Yet I will see Nerevar through you, through your body and into your spirit. You are no Khajiit, barely human… maybe you and Nerevar would have been better as a false god…"

Vivec grabbed Clauviir's shoulder and lifted his body up slowly. He gave a loud cough as he came closer to a standing position. Too afraid of his weak state, Clauviir did nothing to stop him.

"Why are you trying to do this now, of all times to make amends for nothing?" Clauviir said with a dark tone.

"Because I feel my end coming…" Vivec whimpered as he finally erected himself, "I can feel death, even taste it… I've tasted blood, iron, and bone for many years now… but this time I know I cannot delay it anymore. This is the last chance I have to speak to them, they who once worshipped my every word and action… and ask them if they would forgive me."

"I just… I cannot allow you to do--" Clauviir started, interrupted by the sudden tight grip Vivec gave him. Clauviir looked at him, shocked and almost frightened.

"I would sooner kill you then stand idly by and let you stop me from doing this!" Vivec said, coughing loudly right afterwards. His hands, which covered his mouth, were slathered in blood. He looked up at Clauviir, his mouth quivering and a few tears in his eyes. "I appreciate everything you've done for me… your attempts to heal the scar within my spirit, all of the conversations we had about our adventures and the progress of the Dunmer… I've lived more as a human with you than I have even before I was given my powers… but you must understand that this is my last chance for me to see them again… even if they don't know it, they still need it!"

Clauviir looked away, questioning himself on what to do, yet knowing exactly what the right thing to do was. He lightly grabbed Vivec's arm and brought it around Clauviir's shoulder, then continued to lead him out of the palace. "Don't worry; I'll cast sound enchantments around the people so you don't have to speak loudly. I still believe I can heal you, so I can't have you over-exerting yourself…"

"Hah, you are and always will be a fool…" Vivec said quietly as Clauviir's palm pressed on the door's lock, reacting with a golden illumination and opening the door.

The orange hue of the waning dusk blanketed the sky over the great stone cantons. On the temple canton stood a massive gathering of people, staring up at Vivec and Clauviir in wonder and expectancy. Clauviir raised both of his hands and opened his palms, releasing a sound enhancement charm that he learned from a master illusionist. He looked at Vivec and smiled calmly. "If you're not ready to stand, I can just hold you like this," he said, patting Vivec's arm.

"No--" Vivec said back, pushing his side off of Clauviir. He stood there triumphantly; Clauviir believed he saw some of his light blue coloring come back to his skin. "I'll be fine, so long as you stay by my side." He looked at Clauviir, gave a quick grin, and immediately turned towards the crowd, his face solemn.

"My dear kinsman," he said, his voice echoing over the horizon due to the sound enchantment, "It has been too long since I stood before you. I am, perhaps, physically unfamiliar to the Vivec you see in the statues built around you, but I am indeed that same person.

"We all rejoiced when the great Nerevarine brought down the devil Dagoth Ur, treading through the powerful blight storms, slaying legions of beasts as he went. This was once looked at as a duty of The Tribunal; Almalexia, Sotha Sil, and I. Each one of us failed you, but I most of all…

"You all once called me the great "warrior poet", you all called me a savior, a being higher than the saints, even Veloth. You all once believed me better than Azura, than The Divines, than Nerevar. We all learned, through many centuries of trial and error, through four centuries of Imperial occupancy that this was far from the correct way to think of us.

"We were no better than the saints; we were barely comparable. Fear of living gods gave us total control over you, fear of out power made you worship us beyond your abilities. Great thinkers like Saryoni believed I should be thanked for natural born virtues, that I should be thanked for simply reiterating what many of you have already learned and accomplished as children. I will give myself credit that I led you all towards the right values, but nothing can make up for the years I've oppressed all the Dunmer, how I've starved you all from wealth, knowledge, and tolerance.

"I offer now my apologies, and beg you all for forgiveness. I know nothing I can do could make up for the damage I've caused, but with the greatest humility I beg you to find an ounce of clemency in your hearts."

The people watching stood motionless. The Ordinators stirred uncomfortably in their positions, understanding but fearful of the people's reaction. Suddenly, a shirtless Dunmer male, who had climbed to the tip of High Fane started to scream out, "Bring down the false god! He was the true creator of the blight! He conjured Dagoth Ur from the pits of Oblivion! Destroy him before he attempts to destroy us again!"

Clauviir only slightly recognized the elf's bright red hair and hideous looking scars on his abdomen; he was an ex-dreamer, uninfluenced by Dagoth Ur's nightmares yet psychologically destroyed beyond a repairable point. Had the people known what he was, they might have not taken him seriously; but upon his word, the crowd manifested their hidden hatred and violence for Vivec, thoughts which they never knew they had. The massive wave of people crashed onto the line of Ordinators, whom were quickly broken apart due to the sheer weight of the crowd. They smashed through the main guards of the stairway, and dozens of men trickled upwards towards Vivec. They were armed with rusty daggers or nothing at all, as though they were going to tear him apart with their bare hands. The red in their eyes seemed to be wild, shining like newly spilled blood.

They came to the last few steps before Clauviir stepped in front of them, his twin blades unsheathed. The blue of the electricity and orange of the eternal flame wafted from their blades, almost spilling around him like an aura of pure mystical energy. His deep green eyes, as wide and intimidating as a wild lion, stared down on the violent crowd, whom softened upon the awesome sight.

"Fools!" Clauviir screamed, a massive echo emboldened by the sound charm, bringing much of the crowd to their knees as they covered their ears. "This man humbly comes down and kisses your feet even when it is undeserved! What has he done to deserve your hatred? God or not, he has done more than any Daedra, even Azura! By the gods, he represents the kind, strong soul within you all! Calm your passions, for you all are in the presence of a god who earned his right to the title."

The crowd brought themselves up, with many different expressions on their face; dissatisfaction, humility, despair. Clauviir looked behind him to see Vivec lying on the ground, breathing heavily. Clauviir came down to him, propping Vivec's body up as Clauviir kneeled beside him.

"I am… glad," Vivec said, quivering, "that you were willing to say… such things publically. I always thought… you wanted to keep up an image… but that image is much more virtuous than I thought…"

"Fool," Clauviir said, chuckling hesitantly, "I've taken care of your weakening body for 15 years. How could you imagine I was trying to hide that fact? That would take far too much effort."

Vivec gave a single laugh before coughing madly. He closed his eyes and loosened his body, forcing Clauviir to hold him tighter, less he fall. "Then this is the end… I am…. Satisfied… please, take care… of them…" As his voice trailed off, he went completely limp. Clauviir stared at the corpse gravely, laying Vivec's upper body on the cold, damp stone. He looked towards the closest Ordinator and gestured for him to come. As the Ordinator came up the stairway, huffing profusely, Clauviir whispered to him, "Bring his body to Azura's shrine. Tell only the heads of the old temple order. His body will be incinerated… that was his request."

He came down the stairway, the red moon poking through the weakening twilight. He gave eye contact to no one as he stomped through the disillusioned crowd.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The news of Vivec's death spread quickly, especially among Redoran villages. As the Red Party grieved, the Hlaalu-ran cities like Balmora experienced peasant revolts, particularly against their local Temple structure, and the Telvanni chased out Temple priests and missionaries from the few towns they occupied.

Revyn Venim read the newsletter with a disgusted face. When he finished reading, he turned towards the closest torch spire and threw it in. 'How despicable my fellow Dunmer are,' he thought, looking at the flimsy paper convert to ash within seconds, 'They deny his past lessons and make a mockery of our entire culture, yet they act as though he was some sort of sinner, that they were the ones punished! Their attitudes shouldn't be tolerated.'

He stood up, placing his hands behind his back. He walked out of the reading room into a long corridor. It had blue and orange patterns on the bottom of the hard bone walls, which illuminated quite vividly even though there were few candles lit in his path. It was an odd feature of Venim Manor, of the entire complex Under-Skal. Few besides those outside of Ald'Ruhn questioned the settling within the hollowed out skeleton of an Emperor Crab, mostly because it fit so well with the arid landscape of the Ashlands. It was an acquired taste, even for Revyn when he was child, but that particular understanding came quickly as he aged… especially in the aftermath of his father's demise.

He had never had a vengeful feeling towards the Nerevarine after that fateful night, mostly because he never felt connected to his father, or even towards the rest of his family. They communicated little, only seldom briefing each other on the importance of 'duty' and 'honor' for House Redoran. His mother was the only one who seemed to care about him beyond his growth as a warrior. She read him many stories on the lore of Morrowind, of all the saints of The Tribunal. In a way, Revyn was glad the he learned of Dunmer tradition and religious practice during the time they were deemed as false gods, because he hadn't the connection towards them which made every other citizen in Morrowind hate him. Since he never grasped the reality of The Tribunal's existence, and only the reality of each event and lesson recorded on them, he truly grew an understanding of what they were trying to portray within the sermons and poetry; that there was some idea beyond demanding worship, at least when considering Vivec.

When he was of age 12, the Nerevarine accomplished all of his feats. As mentioned, he was not spiteful towards him after killing his father, Bolvyn, in a duel. He was also not overblown with relief and excitement when Dagoth Ur was defeated and the blight storms ended; he almost felt a sense of discontent, as though an entire adventure was selfishly taken from his mind. He was also did not care when the Nerevarine left for Akavir; while all the other children worshipped him, emulating the actions told in the tales about him during playtime, Revyn focused on geography and the history of saints.

As time passed, he grew more lax towards the idea of Redoran etiquette and culture, as well as swordsman training; without his father berating him at any moment they talked with each other, Revyn started to see the positives of being a part of his family's political house. He took his father's position at the age of 16, though not as the head of the Redoran. It was Serjo Athyn Sarethi which took that spot, though not gladly. He understood the goal of the Horator, the Nerevarine, and that once Dagoth Ur's destruction finally came into perspective, the rest of the Nerevarine prophecy would be fulfilled, including blocking off any foreigners from access to Morrowind. Sarethi respected the ambition of foreigners, a virtue which most Redoran Dunmer lacked, as they are too busy practicing old tradition and precarious martial arts (Author's note: the word 'martial' does not always have to refer to fist fighting, as the word is a synonym to 'military'. Therefore, it can fit into the context of weapon-based fighting styles) to look further into the future. At first, Revyn considered Sarethi's opinion to be correct. For 18 years, he looked up to Sarethi for answers to the hard questions, on how to deal with the politics of the council and the dangers Morrowind presented to themselves and the people they protected. When 18 years had passed until Revyn finally went on his desired adventure to Red Mountain… to the Dwemer dungeon Dagoth Ur.

Dagoth Ur had become a pilgrimage shrine based around the Azura cult which formed from the carcass of the old Temple order, its purpose similar to that of 'The Pilgrims Path'. The earthquake which was created from the aftermath of the retuning of Lorkhan's heart blocked off the majority of the complex. The reason Revyn and a few Redoran kinsmen were sent there was some of the caved-in tunnels were opened up, mostly due to the thin rock breaking apart after time and underground movements. From those openings poured Sixth House beasts that were missed by Nerevarine. The few Ordinators guarding the shrine could not defend against so many beasts at once, so they were forced to retreat. The closest aid they could call for were the Redoran of Ald'Ruhn, and when Revyn heard the news of their distress he was the first to enlist.

They marched up Red Mountain, slaying the few beasts that came out of Dagoth Ur, and they destroyed each ash fiend within, taking minimal losses, as the beasts were disorganized and separated. As they entered the last chamber, the area which Dagoth Ur stood before the Nerevarine and told him the truth about his and the Tribunal's history, they came upon a small red statue. It emanated a demonic black and its eyes mesmerized Revyn and the others. Revyn came intimately close to the statue, holding it up to his eyes and caressing it. A piercing screech came from the tunnels behind them. The guards stood still, their faces showing confusion as they looked at Revyn's expression. From the darkness came a hoard of ash beasts: slaves, ascended sleepers, vampires, and many others. They slaughtered the men around Revyn, but left him alone. When they killed the last ones, they gathered around Revyn, their hands and tentacles reaching for him. He blacked out immediately.

He awoke in Fort Buckmoth's infirmary. Everyone that was with him in the raid stood around him, relieved. They told him he was delirious, screaming about the coming of the one true Dunmer, of the false one's demise. They attributed it to the statue, and so they smashed it and set the remains on fire. Revyn assured him that he felt perfectly healthy, and soon the matter was forgotten.

It seemed strange that he looked at Athyn Sarethi so differently. He was jealous of his success, angered by his attitude, threatened by his status. He looked at outlanders with suspicion and hatred, going so far as to accuse Neminda, House Redoran's head drillmaster for new recruits, for treason through consorting with House Hlaalu. The only one who found this odd personality change noticeable was Sarethi himself, who attempted to discuss it with Revyn. When Sarethi confronted him, Revyn blacked out again, waking up seconds later to a cheerful looking Athyn, apologizing to him for his misunderstanding.

Revyn stopped in the middle of the corridor as he came to the end of his thoughts. There were so many things he didn't understand. He felt his mind, all of his opinions and fears and ideas hadn't changed at all after that event two years ago… what he felt was purely irrational, perhaps soul sickness. Yet his mind was centered on a new plan now, which was attempting to weave itself as the news of Vivec's death finally hit his psychology.

He walked on through his manor, coming to the small oval exit that led to the manor district. As he opened it, he was greeted by the working manor guards. He flashed a weak smile to them and continued through the rickety catwalks.

A stinging tinge of fear swooped across his mind. The idea that the Great Houses' recent reaction towards the temple and Vivec's death would result in permanent mutiny between the two and the people they ruled under. 'Does that mean that the temple has no one on their side?' Revyn pondered, crawling slowly down the last steep catwalk towards outside Ald'Ruhn, 'No, that is not true… no matter what, the people of House Redoran are understanding of their plight. We will stand by their side.'

He walked out of the giant bone structure only to run head on to a storm of ash swirling madly around the city. The people went about their daily duties as through nothing was blowing in their face. He smiled at their strength and vitality, something which most races of Tamriel weren't gifted with.

'If we are supportive of the Temple,' he continued in his mind, walking out into the storm, 'Does that mean that those people also rebel against us? What about Captain Darius and the Red Legion in Gnisis? What about all of the innocents, or the guardsmen who only uphold the law of the land?'

The anger swooped by again, stinging even deeper into his mind. 'That is right; those who are not Redoran are lawless men. They do not respect their culture, their birth-given duties in this land. They are greedy heathens, sucking the land dry for wealth and unnecessary progression. They forget that we are there; we are at a point where there is no need for anything but what we already have. They act more like foreign scum than Dunmer…'

He came to the crossroad in the town; straight led to the guilds, the right went to the taverns, and the left to the temple. The brown ash flew past him at remarkable speeds, aggravating his skin only slightly; the sensation comforted him. 'Sarethi probably does not perceive any of these events to lead towards any threats… he may think we're safe and we can just stay neutral… pacifistic.'

He looked out towards the temple, which sat on a hill protruding slightly higher than even Skal itself. He grinned as his plan fully conjured itself. 'Perhaps there is a need for new leadership within House Redoran.'


End file.
